


"Friends" CSS Play

by Julivity



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julivity/pseuds/Julivity
Summary: WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Kudos: 14





	1. ch5

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690198) by [LadyVegeets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722

The doorbell rang.

Bulma hurried down to the ground floor to answer it. Sure enough, Vegeta was standing on the front porch, hands shoved in his pockets, an uncomfortable, scowling expression on his face. He looked around inside the house suspiciously. "Your folks aren’t here?"

Bulma tilted her head as she thought about her parents’ whereabouts. "Hmm, Dad’s probably in the lab working. Mom is in the glasshouse I think."

Vegeta didn’t seem reassured. "They don’t care you have a guest?"

Bulma quirked her brow. "Uh, no. Not really. They don’t care about much. It’s fine. C’mon in."

Vegeta stepped inside reluctantly, looking about as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment. He stopped in the hallway and pulled his bag around in front, digging out the lunch box Bulma had thrust upon him in class. Its contents were empty. "Thanks," he said gruffly as he handed it over.

Bulma took the container, surprised by the verbal gratitude. "Mmhm," she replied. "I put as much potato salad in as I could get."

"I noticed," Vegeta said, his voice still gruff. He refused to look at her.

Seeing his awkwardness, Bulma changed the subject by pointing up the stairs. "This way." 

She led him upstairs and through a few corridors until she reached her room. A glance back found Vegeta was eyeing her house with cautious interest. 

"Here we are!" she announced as they entered her room.

"Your house is huge," Vegeta remarked as they threw their bags down.

"Mm-hmm," Bulma replied absentmindedly. She started digging around in one of her draws. "Do you have a favorite color?"

Vegeta hesitated to answer. "Why?"

"Because it might help narrow down the choices," she replied as she gathered something from the draw. She stood up, a handful of cell phones clutched precariously in her hands.

"Holy shit, how many of those do you have?" Vegeta declared as she dropped the phones on her bed, spreading them out to be easily displayed.

"Oh, these are just the ones that are still active. I have others, but we’d have to get the lines set up."

Vegeta stared at her as if she’d grown another head. Bulma blinked at him, feeling a blush rising. "What?"

"You weren’t kidding about being rich, were you?"

Bulma leveled Vegeta with a smug look. "Nope. If anything, I downplayed our situation. The government borrows money from us."

Vegeta raised a hand and rubbed the scar on his cheek from his most recent beating. He looked uncomfortable in the face of her wealth, but he finally drifted over to the bed, taking a look at her phone collection. 

Bulma picked up a red cell. "How about this one? It’s the latest model."

Vegeta glanced at it, then looked back down at the pile. He picked up a blue one. "Is this one functional?"

Bulma took it from him and looked it over. "Yep. And, it matches my hair!" she said, putting it next to her hair and beaming cutely to show off the color.

Vegeta blushed and snatched the phone back from her. "That’s not why I picked it," he grumbled. 

"Yeah yeah." Bulma leaned over and pointed to a tag on the back of the phone. "That’s the number. So now you can send or receive messages and calls from anyone, without any relatives finding out."

Vegeta grunted.

Bulma continued. "If anyone does find you with that phone, you could just say you stole it or-"

Vegeta stiffened. "Not likely. Do you have any idea how badly he’d b-" Vegeta cut himself short and looked away, his jaw clenching so tightly Bulma could see a vein throb. 

Bulma felt her heart clench in sympathy. "… Well, not stolen then. I just meant you should use whatever excuse you think would be appropriate," she amended softly. "Maybe you could say a friend left the phone behind and you’re going to return it to them later. Although hopefully you won’t have to explain it to anyone. That’s kind of the point after all, it’s suppose to be a secret phone no one else will know about, except you and me. It’s yours to use freely."

Vegeta still looked tense, but he wasn’t shooting the free phone down either. Bulma hoped that meant he was going to accept it.

"Let me text you, to see that it’s working," she suggested when he didn’t say anything. She grabbed her own cell and double-checked the number on Vegeta’s. She punched out a message in lightning speed. A moment later the phone in Vegeta’s hand buzzed.

Vegeta  
  
It's me, Bulma 😊😊😇🌺 🌺 ✨✨🌟🌟🌟🌸 🌼  


He looked at the screen. His eyebrow raised, and he cast her an ‘are you kidding me’ look at all the emojis.

Bulma poked her tongue out at him cutely.

He huffed and shoved the phone into his pocket, keeping his hand there. He looked away. "I should head home before I’m any later."

"Alright," Bulma agreed reluctantly. His visit had been awfully brief. She pulled out a cord and handed it over. "To charge the phone," she explained and Vegeta shoved it into his bag. "I’ll text you so we can plan on when to meet for our project."

"Right," Vegeta replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder. 

Bulma followed him out to the front door, knowing people often got lost in her house, but Vegeta seemed to remember the way. He opened the front door to head out.

"I’ll text you a lot!" Bulma told him in parting.

Vegeta didn’t even bother looking back as he called out. "I’ll turn the damn thing off if you do."

Bulma grinned. "No you won’t."

"Try me."

"Bye!" she called as he reached the street and walked off out of sight. Bulma then ran back up to her room, grabbed her cell, and started texting.

Vegeta  
  
Aren’t you glad to have a friend like me? 😄😉 Yeah, I’ve always wanted an obnoxious stalker. You should be so lucky to have a beautiful girl like me give you the time of day, let alone home cooked meals and a cell phone.👧🍛📱 I’m returning this damn thing to you tomorrow. 😢 Don’t ignore me, grumpy. I’m turning this thing off now. No you won’t. 😈

She waited, and waited. When nothing came, she typed another message.

Vegeta  
  
I know you’re just pretending to have the phone off, jerk face.

She waited some more, but there was still no reply. Bulma scowled and brought the phone to her ear, pressing the dial button next to Vegeta’s phone number.

The call went straight to voice mail.

"Oh my god," she shrieked, and started furiously typing.

Vegeta  
  
I can’t believe you actually turned the phone off, you stupid jerk!

Bulma fumed, and then an idea struck her.

Vegeta  
  
Fine keep your phone off. See if I care. I'll just keep messaging you until you turn it back on.

She wrote the message word by word, sending each one as a separate message. She imagined the look of Vegeta’s face when he turned his phone on and received some 20+ new messages, each only a word long. She giggled to herself and put her phone away, giving up on pestering Vegeta. She went about her afternoon as usual.

That evening, Bulma’s phone buzzed. Distracted with other work, it took Bulma a moment to remember that she’d been harassing Vegeta via text. A little nervous and exhilarated, Bulma unlocked her phone to check her messages.

Vegeta  
  
Are you fucking INSANE?

Bulma smirked, satisfied with Vegeta’s reaction. She was going to send the devil emoji, but then thought better of it. Instead she turned on the front facing camera and pulled on her eye, poking out her tongue to make a face at the camera. She snapped a shot, checked it to make sure she looked good - of course she did, she always looked good - and sent it to Vegeta as a message.

As it sent, Bulma lay down on her bed and waited for Vegeta’s reply. Her stomach knotted nervously.

A minute ticked by. Bulma worried her lip, waiting. Then her phone buzzed and Bulma sucked in a breath when she saw she’d received a picture text back. She opened it.

It was a picture of Vegeta’s hand, flipping her his middle finger.

Bulma felt her mouth curl up in an amused smile. She typed back a reply.

Vegeta  
  
🖕 That’s no way to respond to a lady. You’re no lady. Thankfully.

A weird tightness fluttered in her chest. The room suddenly felt too warm for comfort. Bulma hesitated, suddenly at a loss at what to reply. Vegeta saved her the trouble.

Vegeta  
  
I’m going to bed, so stop messaging me. So early?🙁 Yes. Stop sending messages now, or I’ll come over there and end your miserable existence while you sleep. Okay, this is my last message. Goodnight, Vegeta. 😉🌙❤️

The message showed it was sending when Bulma realized she’d sent the wrong emoji. Instead of a sleepy face, she’d sent a heart. Bulma sat bolt up right in bed and desperately started scrabbling with her phone, trying to cancel the message, but it was too late.

Message sent.

Bulma cried out, appalled. Of all the typing errors she could have made, she’d sent Vegeta a goddamn heart emoji?! She flopped back in her bed, groaning, and waited for the fallout. Would he be mad? Disgusted? Insulting? Or would this be the final straw for him to stop talking to her all together? She didn’t know what would be worse, if Vegeta replied, or if he didn’t. Either option was dreadful to think about.

The phone buzzed. Bulma whimpered, hesitating to see what he’d written back. She slowly brought the phone in front of her face and opened the message.

Vegeta  
  
Night, Bulma

That was it. Bulma stared at the message for a solid minute, trying to process the two word reply. There was no comment about the heart, no insults, no threats, nothing but a simple, blunt, goodnight in the way Vegeta expressed all his thoughts. It was as if he hadn’t paid that heart any attention at all.

Bulma sighed. Vegeta must not have thought anything of the heart, ignoring it as some girly fascination with cute emojis. Decoration. Nothing more.

Bulma continued to stare at his message, frowning.

_Night, Bulma._

Why hadn’t he commented on the heart?

_Night, Bulma._

Why was she so obsessed that he hadn’t commented about the heart?

_Night, Bulma._

Why did she feel more disappointed than relieved?

_Night, Bulma._

And why did her heart skip a beat every time she looked over the message, and read her first name in his voice?

"Oh no…" she whispered to herself. She let her hand fall to the side and stared up at the ceiling for a long, long while. "I’m doomed."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"What’s wrong, Sweety?" Mrs Briefs asked her daughter the next morning as she busied about the kitchen, getting breakfast ready.

"Hmm?" Bulma replied distractedly, checking her messages. There were no new ones.

"You keep checking your phone," Mrs. Briefs pointed out.

Bulma blushed and put her phone down. "Oh… I keep thinking it buzzes."

"Well why not turn the volume on, dear?" Mrs. Briefs suggested sensibly. 

Bulma put the phone on the kitchen counter and tried not to stare at it. She’d debated about sending Vegeta a message when she woke up that morning. She was still a little conflicted about her feelings for the surly boy that had suddenly become a prominent figure in her life. Bulma had finally settled on sending him a little sun emoji as way of morning greeting, and had left it at that. Vegeta still hadn’t replied.

Bulma thought she saw her phone flash a notification from the corner of her eye. She unlocked the screen to check. Nothing. "Goddamnit," Bulma cursed under her breath.

"Now now, that language isn’t becoming," Mrs. Briefs chided gently. She placed a plate of food in front of Bulma. "Bon appetite!"

Bulma picked up her fork and was about to dig in when the counter vibrated loudly, her phone skidding against the smooth surface. Bulma abandoned her food and snatched up her phone.

Vegeta  
  
🌞 🏃♂️

Bulma squinted at it, trying to wrack her brain as to what it might mean.

"Mama, what’s this?" she asked, pointing at the emoji, showing her mother the screen.

Mrs. Briefs squinted at the picture. "Hmm… looks like a boy."

"No, but, what’s he doing?"

"Running I suppose. Eat your breakfast, dear, you don’t want to be late for school," Mrs. Briefs told her.

Bulma frowned, puzzled. She finally texted Vegeta back a question mark, and started eating her breakfast.

A minute later, she had the fork raised to her mouth when she got a reply. Bulma opened the message and her fork fell out of her hand, her mouth dropping open.

Vegeta  
  
🌞 🏃♂️ ? [](https://i.ibb.co/wwvCHJK/Koii-Vegeta-Snap-emoji-zpsffy4fvsl.jpg)  


Vegeta had sent a picture of himself. The shot was taken to demonstrate what he’d been doing; it wasn’t centered properly, only displaying his jaw downwards, and it was slightly blurry, having been snapped quickly and sent without concern for quality. Despite its flaw, Bulma couldn’t stop staring. Vegeta was wearing workout clothes, black track pants and a white shirt that was drenched in sweat. The top clung to his front, showing a hint of abs beneath the soaked fabric. She could see sweat dripping down his jaw, beading on his throat. Bulma stared, transfixed, her eyes roaming down Vegeta’s sweaty body and back up to linger on his jaw, his split lip barely in frame, his mouth parted as if gasping for air. Her gut clenched tightly, and she felt a heat rise up within her.

"Oh my god… I’m in big trouble…" she groaned.

Mrs. Briefs looked over at her. "Hmm? What’s wrong, Sweety?"

Bulma couldn’t look away from Vegeta’s picture. "A boy."

"Aren’t they always?"

"Always what?"

"Trouble," Mrs. Briefs smiled sweetly at her daughter.

Bulma sighed. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to reply to Vegeta’s picture.

Vegeta  
  
Doesn’t your rib hurt too much to run? Doesn’t matter No wonder you’re always so testy. I’d be grumpy too if I was constantly in pain.😠😢

Bulma waited, but Vegeta didn’t seem inclined to reply. Getting an idea, Bulma jumped up and pulled out the lunch box she’d prepared for Vegeta that day. She opened the lid and snapped a photo, and sent it along with a short message.

Vegeta  
  
Guess you’ll have a good appetite for lunch. 🍛

She sent the message.

A moment later, he replied.

Vegeta  
  
Needs more meat

Bulma scoffed at Vegeta’s audacity. No ‘thank you’, no ‘I don’t need hand outs’. Just an order to add more meat. Bulma grumbled under her breath as she went about searching the refrigerator for more meat to put into Vegeta’s lunch.

She took another photo and sent it.

Vegeta  
  
Acceptable

Bulma had to restrain herself from throwing the lunch box in the trash out of spite. Feeling agitated with his cocksure attitude and playboy photo that she couldn’t erase from her mind, Bulma shoved her phone in her pocket to ignore it, and finished her morning routine to get ready for school.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Chi-Chi, I need your advice," Bulma confided to her friend as they walked to school together. "And you can’t tell a soul, especially none of the guys."

"Like I tell them anything we talk about," Chi-Chi smiled at her friend.

Bulma returned the smile. "Haha, well, true. But… I think, I might, kind of have a little crush, maybe, on someone…"

Chi-Chi’s brows rose high. "Wow, Bulma. You work fast."

"It’s not like I meant for it to happen!" Bulma cried out, feeling horrible. She knew she and Yamcha had only broken up recently, and she felt she was being disloyal somehow, despite how things had ended between them. "Am I just subconsciously looking for a rebound?"

Chi-Chi nodded. "Probably. Or you might be looking for a way to get back at Yamcha, or for a replacement for the hole he left in your social life."

Bulma’s shoulders sagged. "I guess…" she said, feeling worse. Was that really what she was doing by focusing on Vegeta so much? That wouldn’t be fair to Yamcha or Vegeta if that were the case.

"Is it serious?" Chi-Chi asked. "Has anything happened? Is this guy interested in you?"

Bulma blushed. "Nothing’s happened. I’m not even sure I feel that way, you know. I’m just… confused. And I’m pretty sure he’s not interested in me."

"Is he single?"

Bulma felt a twist of panic in her stomach. Was Vegeta single? She had no idea. She’d assumed so, but for all she knew Vegeta had some girlfriend somewhere. The thought wasn’t pleasant to her.

Bulma was saved from answering by a friendly voice calling out. "Chi-Chi, Bulma!" Goku came running up to join them.

Bulma flashed Chi-Chi a ‘don’t say anything’ look. Chi-Chi nodded, understanding. Goku caught up to them and flung an arm around Chi-Chi, beaming at them. 

"Morning, Son," Bulma greeted.

"Morning, Bulma. What’s new?" Goku grinned. He always seemed to be in a good mood. He was the polar opposite to Vegeta.

"Not much," Bulma shrugged. "Do you guys have practice tonight?"

Goku nodded. "Yep, sure do. Are you going to come by?"

"Maybe," Bulma replied noncommittally. 

"You should," Goku encouraged. "It’s not the same without everyone all together. And we have a new member now too."

"Right, I heard," Bulma said, trying to sound neutral. "How has practice been?"

Goku talked about fighting and other things for the rest of their walk to school.

Later in the day as the lunch bell rang, Bulma made her excuses to secretly go share lunch with Vegeta on the roof. He was playing his game boy as usual. He looked up at her as she approached.

"Your delivery," Bulma announced, handing over the lunchbox.

Vegeta put his game aside and accepted the food. He grunted something and started eating before Bulma had even sat down next to him. 

"You’re welcome," she said dryly.

Vegeta paused, glancing at her, then looked away. "… Thanks." He went back to shoveling in food.

Bulma was speechless. She hadn’t expected him to actually thank her. Perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all. 

"So… do you run every morning?" Bulma asked conversationally.

Vegeta shrugged, not pausing to answer. 

Bulma rested her chin in her hand, watching him eat, realizing it was pointless to converse when he was more invested in the meal than small talk.

Vegeta glanced at her as she ate. He scowled at her. 

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "What?"

"You’re staring."

Bulma sat upright and turned away, knowing he was right. "Sorry." Idiot, she chastised herself. She leaned back against the wall and stared up at the blue sky. She watched a few scant clouds drift by before she looked down to dig out her own lunch from her bag.

"So, we never actually planned a time to meet for our class project," she pointed out as she ate some rolled sushi. "Because SOMEONE turned their phone off."

Vegeta snorted. "After practice."

Bulma looked at him. "What?"

Vegeta’s brow furrowed. "Nights after practice, I can come over to your place." He cast her an uncertain look. "Does that work for you?"

Bulma smiled at him. "Mm-hm, sure does."

Vegeta put some fried egg into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully as he eyed her sushi.

Bulma raised a brow. "Want some?" she offered, holding up a slice of sushi roll.

Vegeta paused his eating. "What is it?"

"Makizushi."

"Mucky-what?"

Bulma laughed. Vegeta scowled at her. 

"Just try it," she insisted, and plopped the sushi into his lunchbox. 

"Don’t put it there, I didn’t say I wanted it!" he snapped at her.

"Just eat the damn thing and be grateful, will you?"

They spent the rest of lunch half arguing as they ate. Lunch passed quickly and soon it was time for them to head to their classes. 

"See you at practice then," Bulma said as she packed her bag.

"You’re attending?" Vegeta asked, surprised.

Bulma nodded. "I usually do, all my friends are there." She paused, looking at him. Feeling brave, she added, "Especially now."

Vegeta frowned but didn’t make any rude retorts. Bulma took that as a good sign and grinned, nudging him. 

"See, I’m growing on you, aren’t I?"

"Like cancer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722


	2. ch6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722

Bulma sat up in the bleachers as her friends practiced martial arts down below. Yamcha had been shocked to see her there at first, and Bulma in turn had felt a maelstrom of emotions at the sight of him - her wound was still raw, but she knew in time she and Yamcha would be able to move past their awkwardness. Yamcha was soon too busy training to pay her any attention.

Vegeta was also sitting on a bench, right in the front, forced to be a spectator due to his injuries and his Father’s request for his son to sit out of sports until his ribs had healed. Bulma sat several rows behind Vegeta; it reminded her of class. From this position she could surreptitiously watch Vegeta’s back while pretending to watch her friends train. Although Goku and the others were currently not training, instead goofing around, taking advantage of the fact that Coach Piccolo had stepped out to take a call.

Her phone suddenly buzzed. Vegeta had messaged her.

Vegeta  
  
Why are you friends with these people? They all seem like idiots. 🙄They are not. They just don’t have a stick up their butt like someone I know. 😠 Says the self righteous bitch. Says the mightier-than-thou jerk. 👿👿 Ooh, terrifying. Really though. You’re leagues above these people.

Bulma paused in typing her reply. Vegeta was really pressing the issue. It was unusual for him to show such a serious interest in her life.

Vegeta  
  
Didn’t realize you thought so highly of me 😉 Being better than a bunch of idiots isn’t high praise. Don’t let it get to your head. Hey, they’re good people. They help me and support me in both good and bad times. I’ve known them for a long time, Goku especially. 💞💞💞 Goku? The big one? God, he’s the dumbest one here.

Down on the gym floor, Yamcha suddenly cried out as Krillin knocked him over. She saw Vegeta shake his head and he sent a follow-up reply.

Vegeta  
  
Scrap that, your ex takes last place in the moron food chain.

Bulma tried to frown, but found herself fighting back a laugh. She was still bitter enough about Yamcha cheating on her that having Vegeta call him names felt good.

Vegeta  
  
Yeah, well, I wish I’d known that before I started dating him. 🙄 You clearly have poor taste in friends. Is that why I’ve befriended you? 😉 I’m the first smart choice you’ve made in a while. Well, better than Yamcha, at least. 👎😤 It’s a miracle your ex can function with such poor coordination. Especially now that he doesn’t have me around to help. 😇  He’s lucky that’s all he doesn’t have. What’s that supposed to mean? 🤨 Where I come from, if a guy treated his girl the way he did you, he wouldn’t have the parts left to be called a man afterwards. 😨 Brutal. I couldn’t even take our cat to get neutered. I suppose Yamcha’s lucky to not be where you’re from. Want me to beat him up in lieu of a neutering?

Bulma hesitated in replying. A moment ticked by, then another. Soon an entire minute had gone, but she couldn’t make her fingers answer Vegeta’s text, her mind conjuring images of Vegeta enacting revenge on her behalf.

When he didn’t get a reply, Vegeta turned in his seat to look up at her. He cocked a brow, surprised by her hesitation. Intrigued. Something dark flashed in his black eyes.

Bulma blushed, feeling naked and ashamed that she was even considering his offer. She shook her head and lowered her eyes.

Vegeta  
  
Don’t.

Vegeta glanced at the message, then turned back away to face the gym.

Bulma swallowed, her throat dry, her heart pounding. She hadn’t really wanted Yamcha beaten up, she wasn’t that bitter at him. But the thought of Vegeta offering to pummel someone for her… It had sparked something primal within her. In that one, brief heartbeat, Bulma had tasted power, to control Vegeta, to hurt Yamcha… and she was utterly terrified by how much she’d liked it. Disgusted with herself, she didn’t use her phone for the rest of practice.

When training ended, Bulma decided to leave while her friends showered and changed. Vegeta didn’t need to change, having only sat on a bench the whole time, but the coach took him aside to talk to him about ways to start easing into exercise with his injuries. Vegeta looked irritated by the inconvenience. Bulma had to hide a smirk; she doubted the coach knew that Vegeta was already going on morning runs, to hell with ‘easing into exercise’. She left, knowing Vegeta wouldn’t be too far behind her to study at her house as they’d planned.

When she got home she barely had time to clean up before the doorbell rang. She let Vegeta in and they went to her room. 

“So, I had a couple ideas for our project,” Bulma said, excited to be talking science. They sat on cushions at a floor table in her room. “It’s something my father and I have talked about before. We could invent a device that is able to store large items in a small container, like a capsule.”

Vegeta scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. We’ll be laughed out of class with something so science-fiction as that.”

Bulma shook her head. “No, really. I know it’s far fetched, but if we consider-”

“Knock knock!” A cheerily sweet voice interrupted from the door. Vegeta visibly stiffened.

Bulma was less alarmed, knowing the voice. “Come in, Mama.”

Mrs. Briefs let herself in, beaming at the two in the room. “Bulma honey, you have a guest? I don’t believe I’ve met this strapping young gentleman before.”

“This is Vegeta, Mama,” Bulma introduced. “He’s new to school, and my partner for a project in advanced skills.” Bulma turned to Vegeta. “Vegeta, this is my mother, Panchy Briefs.”

Mrs. Briefs beamed at Vegeta and held out her hand. Vegeta took it with an uncertain expression. “Uh… Thank you for having me in your home, Ma’am.”

Bulma barely kept her mouth from dropping open, seeing Vegeta be so polite. 

Mrs. Briefs tittered as they shook hands. “You’re most welcome, Vegeta dear. My, you’re in advanced with my daughter? So you’re smart as well as cute.”

“Mama!” Bulma cried out, appalled. Vegeta looked like he wanted to flee, color rising to his cheeks.

“And you’re in the fight club too, I see,” Mrs. Briefs continued unashamedly, commenting on Vegeta’s fading bruises and cuts.

Bulma hastily answered. “Yes! With Goku and the others.” Her mother didn’t have to know that Vegeta hadn’t technically received his injuries from gym. Vegeta flashed Bulma a raised eyebrow, but didn’t call her out on the lie. 

“So Vegeta, are you single?” Mrs. Briefs inquired.

“MAMA!” Bulma shouted, standing up. She started pushing her mother out of her room. “We need to study now, thanks for visiting!”

Mrs. Briefs laughed. “Okay darling, I know you kids want your privacy. Are you hungry, shall I prepare a snack while you study?”

Bulma was about to say no just to get her mother to leave, but thought better of it. She was hungry, and Vegeta always seemed to be too, so she replied, “Yes, thanks. Can you make some dinner for us? We’re starving. Thanks, Mama. Now go.”

Mrs. Briefs grabbed the doorway before she could be pushed out and smiled at Vegeta. “Vegeta, honey, is there anything you’d care for? Do you have any allergies?” Vegeta shook his head, dumbstruck in the face of Mrs. Briefs’ motherly attention. “Alright then, I’ll whip something up for you two. Be back soon. Work hard!” Mrs. Briefs called to them, and with a final push, Bulma shoved her mother out and shut the door. 

Bulma glanced at Vegeta, embarrassed. “Sorry about that. She’s always been kinda kooky.” Vegeta grunted, saying nothing else about the matter, still looking embarrassed. Bulma sat back at the table, wishing away the blush on her cheeks. “Well, um, where were we?”

“Science-fiction capsules,” Vegeta grunted, not looking at her.

“Yes. I mean, no! It’s not science-fiction.”

They debated for a while about the possibility of capsule technology. Vegeta finally shot it down and said he’d rather invent armor that could stretch to be flexible in battle and fit any body type, but still be strong enough to resist weapons and attacks. “Now who is living in a sci-fi world?” Bulma snorted.

Their argument was finally broken up by Mrs. Briefs returning with their dinner. The food instantly caught Vegeta’s attention as he was unable to look away from the feast she had prepared for them. Their little table was quickly ladened by steaming hot chicken, mountains of roasted vegetables, and brown gravy. There was also cold water, juice and steaming hot buttered bread. Vegeta murmured his thanks to Mrs. Briefs, surprising Bulma once again with his ability to use manners.

As soon as Mrs. Briefs excused herself, Vegeta didn’t wait to be told to start eating. Bulma joined him and they happily consumed the delicious food. There was so much of it in fact that despite Vegeta’s best efforts, even he couldn’t finish all the meal. He glared angrily at the last bits of chicken, as if annoyed that he couldn’t find room in his belly for them. 

“You can take the left overs home,” Bulma suggested.

“Tch, what am I, a stray dog?” he said, looking away from the food as if it suddenly didn’t interest him anymore. Bulma sighed at his fickleness. “Your mom is pretty nice, even if she is a busy-body like you.” He announced as if to change the topic.

Bulma shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.” It occurred to her that she’d never heard Vegeta mention his mother. Not that he ever really spoke about his father, or anyone really, but Bulma at least knew that there was a Mr. Saiyan. Did Vegeta even have a mother around? She bit her lip. She knew it would be impolite to ask. There was so much about Vegeta that she still didn’t know.

After dinner they returned to their school project. After more arguing and insults, they finally agreed on ‘inventing’ a polymer for improved gym clothing, something that would be comfortable to wear for training, and be supportive to muscles and joints while helping protect against impacts and injuries. ‘The ideal training gi’, Vegeta called it. They divided up tasks of who would research and write what, and by the time that was sorted, it was quite late in the evening.

Vegeta swung his backpack over his shoulder, wincing as it aggravated his ribs. “I should head home.”

Bulma saw him grimace and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Have you been taking the pain medication the doctor prescribed you?”

“Tch. I don’t need that crap.” Bulma glared at him. Vegeta scowled back. “The bruising is almost gone,” he said and lifted up his shirt to show her. Bulma caught a glimpse of ugly purple bruising on Vegeta’s slim yet muscled abdomen before she whipped her head around, outraged.

“Don’t show me that, you pervert!” she cried out, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks, her heart suddenly pounding loudly in her ears.

“Seriously? You’re shy?” Vegeta asked, half shocked, half amused. “All your friends are male, and in MMA. Surely you’ve seen this before.”

“They don’t fight naked!” she protested, adding ‘usually’ in her mind. Bulma knew she was overreacting, she had indeed seen her male friends topless plenty of times, and had even appreciated seeing Yamcha topless more than once. But having Vegeta reveal himself when she was still conflicted about her feelings for him wasn’t doing her any favors. And this wasn’t the gym, this was her bedroom, and they were alone. It was too much.

Bulma heard Vegeta laugh. It was soft and low, a chuckle really, and it stirred something in her lower belly that made her blush even harder. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He had his hands crossed in front of his chest, giving her a smug smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Didn’t take you for a prude, Briefs,” he teased.

Oh great, Bulma kicked herself mentally. She’d given Vegeta something to torment her with, and he was jerk enough to know it, and use it. “I thought you were leaving,” she snapped back. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m out,” Vegeta replied, still smirking, and fixed his bag over his shoulder. “Later.”

“Hmph,” she said, turning up her nose and looking away from him, not trusting herself to even look at him right now without blushing hard.

She heard the door click closed and she looked to see her room empty. Bulma sighed, feeling the tension ease from her body. Her phone suddenly buzzed.

Vegeta  
  
💪 Dick I don’t know you well enough to show you that. YOU PERVERT. I’M TURNING MY DAMN PHONE OFF. No you won’t.

Bulma fumed and pressed the power button on her phone. Then she threw it onto the pile of cushions on the floor and stormed out of her room.

The next morning when she turned her phone on, Bulma was a little disappointed to find she hadn’t received a slew of messages from Vegeta. In fact, he hadn’t sent a single damn one. That’s when she realized she’d fallen into his trap - he’d wanted her to turn off her phone to spare himself from her usual barrage of texts. By turning off her phone, she’d only punished herself.

“Ugh! I hate him,” she grumbled at breakfast to the kitchen counter.

“Who do you hate, dear?” Mrs. Briefs asked sweetly.

“Men,” Bulma spat back, pushing her fruit about on her plate.

Mrs. Briefs beamed at her. “Sounds like someone likes someone.”

Bulma blushed furiously. “I do not, Mama! Didn’t you hear me? I hate him! He’s a jerk, a big, mean, annoying, smug, egotistical jerk!”

Mrs. Briefs tapped her lip, cocking her head. “Are you talking about Yamcha, dear?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Bulma grumbled, not replying. “If he thinks he’s so clever, he can make his own damn lunch,” she said to herself.

Mrs. Briefs left her alone to her own mumblings.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Bulma ignored Vegeta all throughout advanced class. Or she would have if he bothered to pay her any attention. It was hard to ignore someone when they were ignoring you first. 

During PE she made a big show of hanging out with her friends, pointedly ignoring Vegeta, hoping to… well, she didn’t know what she was hoping to do. To make him jealous? Annoyed? She was still puzzling out her motivations when class ended. It was her turn to help put away the equipment in the sports shed out the back of the school yard.

She was carrying some balls outside to the storage shed when she met two boys coming from the opposite direction, smelling of cigarette smoke. One was broad, the other skinny and rattish. She tried to ignore them but the way their eyes lingered on her short gym outfit told her she was in for some trouble.

“Looking good, girl,” the broad one called out to her in a suggestive tone

Bulma scowled and ignored them, heading to the shed to deposit her equipment. When she turned to head out, she saw the two boys standing in the door, blocking her exit. Bulma felt a small flutter of fear.

“What do you want?” She asked testily, using anger to mask her fear.

“Hey, my friend here paid you a compliment. The least you could do is thank him,” the ratty boy said, leering at her.

Bulma glared at them both, saying nothing. 

“Aw, c’mon girl, don’t be like that,” the broad one cajoled. “Hey, you’re Bulma Briefs, right? I heard what happened to your boy in the toilets. So you’re single now, right?”

“Dream on,” Bulma spat, and tried to push past them. The ratty boy gently pushed her back inside the shed, not letting her out. The fear in her belly intensified. “Let me past, pea brains,” she snapped at them, her voice coming out too high. She fisted her hands to hide their trembling.

“Move,” a gruff, familiar voice instructed from behind the two bullies.

All three of them turned to look. Vegeta was standing there carrying an impressive amount of sports equipment in his arms. The two boys traded an uncertain glance, then moved to let Vegeta past. The ratty one stepped to the side so that he was still blocking in Bulma.

Vegeta walked by without even glancing at her. He dumped his load in the shed, then exited and started walking away.

“Vegeta…” Bulma called out to him in a small, helpless voice. She couldn’t believe he was just going to ignore her. Had he not seen her there?

Vegeta stopped. The two boys tensed, staring at him, waiting to see if he’d intervene.

A strained moment ticked passed. Then Vegeta spoke, his back to all of them. “I’ve been told not to get involved in fights.” And with that, he walked off.

Bulma’s mouth parted in disbelief as she watched him leave, betrayal stabbing her deeply. She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. Fearfully, she turned her gaze back on the two boys.

They smirked at her, sensing her fear and their victory.

“What say you, Briefs? Why not give us your number? We know how to treat a girl right,” the ratty boy said, placing his hand on Bulma’s waist and thumbing her hip possessively. It made her skin crawl.

Bulma felt her whole body flood with fear-fueled adrenalin. In a panic, she reacted before she could think her actions through. She punched the boy square in the nose.

He howled and staggered back, clutching his face. Once he got over the shock he glared at her, taking a threatening step forward.

With no help coming, Bulma knew she was going to have to get herself out of this one. She was no fighter, she was also no quitter. Bulma mustered up every ounce of anger and arrogant, entitled teenage strength she had, drawing herself up to full height as she pointed a finger at them.

“You’ll get out of my face right this instant or I’m going to scream so bloody loud the whole school will come running out here. Then I’ll sue you both for sexual harassment until your families are so disgraced and bankrupted they’ll be begging on the streets for the next five generations. And if you continue to bother me, I might even hire someone to pay you a visit one night, when it’s dark and you’re alone, and accidentally break your knees. I’m a Briefs, so you know I can do it with the spare change in my designer gym bag. Do I make myself clear, boys?”

The two boys stood stock still, letting the weight of her words sink in. They were pissed, the ratty one with the bruised nose especially, but they also looked worried, knowing she could easily carry out her threats. The Briefs fortune was no joking matter. The injured boy finally huffed and shoved her hard against the wall, knocking her down onto her butt.

“Bitch,” he spat, and the two walked off leaving her on the ground.

Bulma remained sitting on her backside for a few minutes, trying to calm down. She was trembling like a leaf, her anger quickly subsiding in the face of fear and relief.

After what felt like an eternity she pulled herself up on shaky legs and started walking slowly back towards the school. As she turned a corner, she nearly bumped into someone.

Vegeta was leaning against the wall, staring at his shoes. He cast her a sidelong look.

Seeing his face, Bulma saw red. She stomped up to him, planted her feet, and slapped him hard across the face. Vegeta took it without even attempting to stop her. Bulma glared at him, still trembling from her ordeal. 

“Feel better?” he asked her flatly.

“You just left me with them!” she said, her voice low, shaking with rage. 

“And?”

“How could you?” she asked, feeling unbidden tears rise.

Vegeta said nothing in his defense, just staring at her somberly.

“You jerk!” she shouted, and hit his shoulder as tears started to fall. Vegeta took the abuse without complaint. “Some friend you are!”

“You’re the one who insists we’re friends, not me.” 

Bulma hit his shoulder again, and again. “You asshole! I can’t believe you would abandon me like that. I was… I was so scared,” she confessed, curling her fingers in Vegeta’s shirt and to her horror she started sobbing.

“Yet you handled it, all by yourself,” he pointed out calmly, undaunted by her tears.

Bulma cried, taking a while to process his words. She wiped at her eyes and finally looked up at him, hurt and confused.

He met her gaze unflinchingly, then gave her a small smile. “You handled them better than I would have given you credit for. You’re pretty feisty when cornered.”

Bulma stared at him in disbelief. As the initial panic wore off, she started putting the pieces together. She thought Vegeta had abandoned her to the nasty boys, but he hadn’t really left her, he’d been around the corner the whole time. Close enough to intervene if need be. 

He’d given her the chance to save herself, and she had.

She still wasn’t ready to forgive him. Bulma pulled herself together, mustering her fiercest scowl yet. “You still could have helped!”

Vegeta folded his arms. “You’re the one who said I should stay out of trouble.”

“Not at the expense of my safety!” Bulma shouted back, feeling better to be fighting rather than crying. 

“You weren’t in any danger,” Vegeta told her scathingly. 

“Well I’m glad you were so sure of that, because I had no idea! I thought they were going to rape me!” Bulma spat back.

The lunch bell rang, interrupting their fight.

Bulma gave Vegeta one more glare, then flipped her hair over her shoulder and started walking off to change out of her PE uniform. Vegeta followed a few paces behind. Before she could enter the gym, Vegeta slapped his hand across the doorway, blocking her entrance. Bulma glared at him. “What now?” She snapped at him, still feeling emotionally shaken and raw.

Vegeta glared back at her, only inches away. For a moment Bulma was’t sure what he was going to do, but then he lowered his arm and took her hand in his. She tried to yank it away, but he tightened his grip and tugged her closer so that he could see her hand better.

“Keep still,” he snapped at her, and Bulma stopped struggling. Vegeta ran his thumb over her knuckles, and then put pressure on them. “Does this hurt?” he asked.

Bulma winced and nodded, biting her lip in pain. “Ow, yes.”

“Make a fist,” he told her, and she did. Vegeta grunted. “It’s not likely broken. You should get some ice on it though so it doesn’t swell.”

Bulma just stared at their hands, unable to bring herself to look at him. His hand was so much bigger than hers, his skin tanner, his own knuckles roughed up from fighting. He ran his thumb over her knuckles one last time before letting her go. Bulma felt something break inside of her as he did.

“I’d never let them hurt you,” he said gruffly, looking away.

Bulma swallowed thickly. “Why?” He looked back at her and she met his gaze. “We’re not even friends, remember. So why would you even care?” She pushed past him and went inside the locker rooms to change, leaving Vegeta behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722


	3. ch7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722

After she’d changed out of her sports uniform from the sports shed incident, Bulma spent lunch with her friends. She barely touched her food, icing her hand with an ice pack she’d obtained from the school nurse. She continued to drift through classes for the rest of the day, feeling lost and hollow. She walked home without paying her surroundings any attention and spent the evening in front of the TV, binge eating and watching romantic Korean dramadies, crying way too much over the sappy stories.

She went to bed and stared at her phone for what must have been an hour, but she didn’t get any messages. 

The next day at school, Vegeta had new bruises. Bulma made eye contact with him as she entered class. Vegeta looked away first, saying nothing. Bulma swallowed down her own feelings and sat at her desk, offering him nothing back.

At lunch in the cafeteria she was once again quiet and detached. She saw her friends were flashing her worried looks, but she couldn’t bring herself to fake a cheeriness she didn’t feel for their sakes. 

“Are you coming to practice, Bulma?” Goku asked her.

Bulma shook her head. “I’ve got a lot of homework.” 

Her friends all exchanged glances, but no one called her out on her lie despite knowing that Bulma rarely had homework as she could finish her work before the teacher could finish assigning it. Bulma went home after school and waited. Vegeta was supposed to come to her house to work on their project after MMA training, but after their spat, she didn’t know whether to expect him or not. She finally gave up waiting two hours after practice should have finished. Bulma went to bed clutching a pillow to her chest, wondering why it hurt so much to lose someone she hardly knew.

The next day Chi-Chi arrived at her house to walk her to school. When Bulma met her, Chi-Chi blanched. “Goodness, Bulma, you look awful.”

Bulma sighed. “Gee, thanks, Chi-Chi.”

Chi-Chi put a hand on her hip. “Look, Bulma. What’s wrong? You’ve been super mopey lately, and clearly you didn’t get much sleep last night. I thought you were over Yamcha.”

“I am,” Bulma replied, then amended. “I mean, this isn’t about him.”

Chi-Chi raised her brows. “Is this about the new boy you mentioned before? The one you weren’t even sure you liked?”

Bulma looked down at her shoes, kicking a stone out of the path. “We kind of had a fight.”

“You fight with everyone,” Chi-Chi stated matter-of-factly.

“No, a real fight,” Bulma stressed. 

Chi-Chi looked dubious. “Well, did you apologize?”

Bulma stiffened. “Me? It was his fault.”

Chi-Chi arched a brow at her friend. “Oh? What did he do?” 

“He…” Bulma trailed off, frowning. What had Vegeta done? “He’s… a total jerk. He didn’t help me when… well, he said he could have if it came to that, but he didn’t and he made me help myself… Okay, that didn’t come out right, just trust me, it was bad… Don’t look at me like that, Chi Chi. Anyway, he said we weren’t friends, but we clearly were, I mean, what else do you call it when you’re always texting and eating lunch together and… and now he won’t even talk to me…” Bulma trailed off, not sure where she was going with her rant.

“He said you weren’t friends?” Chi-Chi repeated.

Bulma nodded.

“In those actual words?”

Bulma hesitated. “Well… maybe not those words exactly, but that was the implication.”

“Mm-hmm,” Chi Chi replied, sounding skeptical. “And what did you say?”

Bulma kicked another stone. “I said, um… that he shouldn’t bother caring about me if we’re not friends.”

Chi-Chi shook her head slowly at her friend. “So you basically broke up with him?”

“I… No!” Bulma protested.

“That’s what it sounds like,” Chi-Chi replied with a nonchalant shrug. 

Bulma bit her lip. “… Really?”

Chi-Chi nodded. “And it probably sounded like that to him too. If he’s not talking to you, it’s probably because he thinks he’s respecting your wishes.”

Bulma frowned, not ready to accept responsibility for her stalemate with Vegeta. “I doubt it, he doesn’t seem the type to respect other people’s wishes…. Anyway, why do I have to be the one who always makes the first move?”

“Because if he’s anything like the other guys you’ve been interested in, this guy is emotionally handicapped and as stubborn or more so than you are,” Chi-Chi told her frankly.

Bulma made a face. “Jeez, you’re being harsh.”

“Yep, but you’re a big girl, Bulma, you can handle it. And you need to hear it. If you’re this torn up over losing his friendship, then it sounds to me that you’re not willing to let him go yet. If that’s the case, you need to be the bigger person and try to mend the damage.”

Bulma sighed, aggravated. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, grumpy that Chi-Chi wasn’t taking her side more. “How was practice?” she asked to change the topic.

“The usual,” Chi-Chi said. 

“What about the new guy?” Bulma asked carefully, hoping she was being subtle.

“Vegeta? Not much there. He’s still sitting out, injured. And he’s not very social. He was just staring at his phone the whole time.”

“His phone?” Bulma inquired, looking intently at her friend. “Why? Was he texting someone?”

Chi-Chi shook her head. “No, he was just looking at the lock screen. I thought he was watching a movie at first, but then I later saw that the screen was off. I guess he was expecting an important call.”

Or a text.

Bulma looked away to hide her guilty expression from Chi-Chi. Inwardly her heart was shattering, imaging Vegeta waiting all practice for an olive branch from her that never came. Vegeta might be the world’s biggest asshole, but she was the world’s biggest bitch.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

When lunch came it was raining. Bulma hadn’t prepared a lunchbox, so she went to the cafeteria and bought two lunch trays before heading up onto the roof. 

She opened the door and almost didn’t see him. He wasn’t sitting in his usual spot, instead he was huddled by the door, sat under a small awning to get what little shelter he could from the rain. Bulma closed the door and stood before him awkwardly.

Vegeta frowned and put his gameboy down, saying nothing, eyes downcast. 

Bulma fidgeted with her trays of food. She held the bigger one out to him. “I didn’t have time to make a lunchbox…” she said, her voice trailing off.

Vegeta raised his eyes enough to see the tray. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t take it. Then he reached out and begrudgingly accepted the food.

Bulma hesitated before sitting down next to him. They both clutched their trays, neither eating, huddled miserably under the small awning to stay dry.

“You didn’t come over to study last night,” Bulma said softly to break the awkward silence. The rain pelted down hard. It narrowed their world down to just the two of them, blocking everything else out.

Vegeta’s fingers flexed on his tray. He sighed through his nose and put the tray down. “What do you want?”

Bulma cleared her throat nervously. “Well, we need to work on our class project-”

“No,” he stopped her. “What do you want from me, Bulma?” He cast her a sidelong look, then stared back at his food. “I can’t offer you anything.”

“That’s not true,” Bulma protested. “I iced my hand like you told me too, and it felt a lot better. See,” she showed him the hand she’d punched the ratty boy with. Her knuckles were still bruised, but there was no swelling thanks to her having taken his advice.

Vegeta looked at her hand, then dared to finally look at her. His brow furrowed at the sight of her. “You look like shit.”

Bulma scowled petulantly. “I wish everyone would stop telling me that. It’s rude.”

The corner of Vegeta’s mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. “Well stop making us look at your ugly face.”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open, rendered temporarily speechless. “I… You… How dare you. I am not ugly, I’m fucking adorable! Like you can talk, you’re all busted up again. So much for not getting involved in fighting.”

“Whatever,” Vegeta said nonchalantly, ignoring her to pick up his tray and start eating.

“Why… you… Don’t ignore me, you dick!”

“Brat,” he countered around a mouthful of food, not even looking at her.

“Jerk!” She spat back.

“Entitled princess.”

“Asshole!”

“Friend.”

“Wh-what?” Bulma spluttered, shocked, unsure if she’d heard right.

Vegeta didn’t repeat himself, putting another forkful of food into his mouth. Bulma watched him for a solid minute, letting his confession sink in. Her heart was pounding too fast, too loud. She finally leaned back against the wall and started eating her own lunch to hide her astonishment.

Vegeta picked up the brownie on his tray and placed it on hers. When she gave him a questioning look, Vegeta just said, “You’re too skinny.”

Bulma felt her lip tremble. She clutched her fork hard to fight back tears, and she let out a small, trembling laugh of relief. “Th-thank you,” she croaked.

He grunted at her, the sound soft and kind.

She could hardly keep a smile off her face the rest of lunch. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to be talking to Vegeta once more. When they were finished eating, Bulma asked him about his game system. Vegeta showed it to her and for the rest of break he played while she watched, leaning her cheek against his arm to get a better view of the small screen as the rain continued to fall around them.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

Vegeta  
  
Do you have any plans this weekend? 😊☀️ Why? You should come over. We need to work on our project. 👍📚💻 When? How’s tomorrow sound? If you get here early, my mom can cook you breakfast. 😉🥓 Can’t. Running Afterwards then. Brunch? 🥓🥓🥓🥓🥓🥓 Fine. Yay! 😄🎉

Bulma grinned, elated when Vegeta accepted her invitation. If she got her way, and she usually did, she’d have the whole day with Vegeta. Perhaps she could actually crack the hard shell he kept about himself and learn a little more about him.

She woke up the next morning and told her mother to prepare a lavish brunch. Then Bulma went about showering and doing her hair and spending far too much time choosing an outfit to wear. She settled on some short shorts and a red tube top. Cute but casual. Bulma looked at herself in the mirror as she applied bright red lipstick and suddenly stopped herself short.

“… What are you doing?” she whispered to herself. She was preparing as if for a date. Bulma grabbed a tissue and wiped the lipstick off her lips. She looked in the mirror once more, pointing a stern finger at herself. “Get it together, girl. He’s just your study partner.”

The doorbell rang, and Bulma hurried down to answer, but Mrs. Briefs beat her to the punch.

“My, my Vegeta, don’t you look handsome this morning!” Mrs. Briefs fawned as she let Vegeta in. Bulma came skipping down the stairs to see Vegeta scowling, looking askance and blushing at Mrs. Briefs words. 

“Mama!” Bulma chided, but she couldn’t help agreeing with her mother’s words. Vegeta was dressed in dark blue jeans and a charcoal black button up shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. It was the nicest and most fitted thing he’d worn yet. Bulma almost missed a step drinking in the sight of him. She was starting to regret having taken her make-up off.

Vegeta looked up upon hearing her voice. Bulma watched him eye her from head to toe, then look away. He had a plastic bag in his hand which he handed over to Mrs. Briefs.

“Oh, what’s this?” the older woman twittered excitedly.

“A pie,” Vegeta mumbled. 

“Oh Vegeta, that’s so sweet of you. Why don’t you put your bag in Bulma’s room, then you two come on down and eat. Brunch is almost ready.” Mrs. Briefs left the entry way and headed to the kitchen. Vegeta glanced over at Bulma again.

Bulma put a fist on her hip. “Are you trying to woo my mother?” she teased.

“Tch,” Vegeta replied and headed up the stairs towards her. “It’s only polite to bring something when you’re a guest.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of you. ‘Polite’.” 

“Cute,” Vegeta replied in a droll voice. “You’re a regular comedian.”

They headed to her room to dump his backpack. Bulma noticed that Vegeta’s hair was still damp and he smelt of soap. He must have come over fresh from a shower after his morning run. It took a lot of willpower to not let images of ‘Vegeta’ and ‘shower’ derail her train of thought to someplace inappropriate. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, giving her a clear view of his forearms. They looked thick and powerful, and scared. Bulma wondered how he’d gotten them all.

With bags out of the way, they headed down to the kitchen where Mrs. Briefs had set up a lavish brunch. There were all kinds of delicious looking food laid out - various sweet and savory breads, waffles, fruit, jams, cooked eggs, slabs of steaming ham, bacon and sausage, mixed juices, teas, coffee and in the center, Vegeta’s pie.

“Mm, Mama, this looks lovely,” Bulma declared as she sat down. Vegeta took a seat next to her, eyeing the food with a strange, pained look on his face. 

Mrs. Briefs beamed at them. “Well, eat up!”

Vegeta didn’t need telling twice. He took a bit of everything, especially the meat products, until his plate was piled high with enough food to feed three people. He and Bulma started eating, not bothering with small talk when there was fresh, delicious food to be eaten.

“Morning!” a chipper male voice called.

Vegeta nearly choked on his food. He stood up at attention, swallowing his mouthful as Bulma’s father wandered over to join them. “Morning, Sir,” Vegeta greeted stiffly. Bulma arched a brow at Vegeta. 

Dr. Briefs glanced at Vegeta with a friendly smile. “Morning, son. You must be Vegeta. Hakase Briefs, pleasure,” Dr. Briefs introduced himself, holding out a hand to Vegeta.

Vegeta shook it respectfully. “Vegeta Saiyan, Sir.”

“Vegeta Saiyan, huh?” Dr. Briefs let Vegeta’s hand go to stroke his mustache. “So it must be your father who took over the new Lieutenant General position under General Cold, is that correct?”

Bulma’s eyes grew big, surprised by the information. Vegeta nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Planning on signing up when you come of age?”

Bulma noticed Vegeta’s hands fisting at his sides. “That’s yet to be determined, Sir.”

Dr. Briefs nodded, taking a seat. “Good boy. Consider all your options first. Please, don’t let me interrupt your meal.”

Vegeta sat back down and continued eating. Bulma threw him an uncertain, sideways glance, but Vegeta didn’t look at her so she turned her attention onto her father. “How do you know about the military, Papa?” she asked.

Dr. Briefs opened a newspaper as Mrs. Briefs poured him a coffee. “The appointment was big news at the company. The military always comes over every few months and poke about, trying to get me to invent things for them. It’s good to know who I need to politely refuse,” he winked at his daughter.

“Vegeta brought over a pie,” Mrs. Briefs told her husband, deftly changing the subject. She smiled at Vegeta. “Did your mother make it, honey?”

Bulma froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Vegeta didn’t miss a beat. “No, ma’am. My mother passed away when I was young. The pie is from the bakery.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Briefs said, raising a hand to her mouth. “My condolences. Me and my big mouth.”

Bulma looked at Vegeta, but he was still eating, seemingly unconcerned by the topic of his dead mother. Bulma glared back at her parents. “Sorry about my folks and their intrusive questions,” she gritted out, directing her scathing tone at her parents.

“Now now, Bulma, we’re just being sociable,” Dr. Briefs defended, still looking at the newspaper.

“It’s fine,” Vegeta told her, giving Bulma a heavy look.

Bulma felt her cheeks redden and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. If she was the only one uncomfortable then there was no reason to be making such a fuss. She went back to eating her food.

Dr. and Mrs. Briefs chit-chatted about inane daily life while Bulma and Vegeta ate their meal. Vegeta made impressive work of his plate, finishing everything and reaching for seconds.

“My, you have a healthy appetite, Vegeta. Just like Goku, don’t you think, Bulma sweety?” Mrs. Briefs asked her daughter.

Bulma shrugged, feeling the sudden burning gaze of Vegeta on her at the mention of Goku coming over to eat. She was saved by her father.

“So what are you two up to today?” Dr. Briefs asked.

“Working on a school project mostly,” Bulma explained as she sipped her coffee.

“Nice, nice,” Dr. Briefs replied, only half listening.

Bulma put her cup down but in doing so, accidentally knocked Vegeta’s spoon off the table. She leant down to pick it up at the same as Vegeta did, and they hit heads.

“Ouch!”

“Tch!”

“Your head is as hard as a boulder!” Bulma complained, rubbing her brow.

“And your head is as big as one,” Vegeta grumbled back, rubbing his.

Mrs. Briefs laughed. “It’s good to see you two get along so well.”

Bulma and Vegeta glared at each other, then Bulma stood up. “Come on, rock head, our research isn’t going to study itself.”

“I’m not finished,” Vegeta replied stubbornly, staying seated to grab more ham.

Bulma made an agitated sound. “How much more can you possibly eat?”

Vegeta didn’t answer her, too busy angrily shoveling food into his mouth.

Bulma threw up her hands and sat back down, waiting impatiently for Vegeta to finish. 

Ten minutes later, during which Bulma gave Vegeta her best dagger-filled look to hurry up, and he deftly ignored, they finally headed up to her room to study. 

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

Bulma had her laptop open to her left, paper to her right. She was writing down notes when she suddenly got the feeling she was being watched. She glanced up and saw Vegeta staring at her.

“What?” 

“You were humming,” he said, still looking at her with intense, black eyes. Bulma couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused. 

“Oh, I was?” Bulma asked, unaware. She’d been in the zone; she took after her father that way, easily getting absorbed in her work. 

Bulma put her pencil down and stretched her arms up above her head. She checked the time. She and Vegeta had been working for a solid couple of hours. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned over to peer at Vegeta’s work. “How’s it coming?”

Vegeta gave her a lingering glance, then let his gaze slide back at his work. “You know I can see down your top when you lean over like that.”

Bulma sat bolt right up, blushing. She pursed her lips, crossing her arms defiantly, taking on a haughty pose. “So? I have a gorgeous body, it would be a crime not to show it off.”

Vegeta turned off the tablet Bulma had leant him for researching. He smirked at her, saying nothing.

Bulma could feel the heat in her cheeks grow worse by the second. Vegeta’s dark eyes were dancing with wicked amusement, laughing at some secret jest only he knew. Bulma finally grabbed a pillow from the ground and threw it at him. “Pervert.”

Vegeta dodged the throw easily. “You’re the one dressed like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for the next virile male to come along and fuck you.”

Bulma spluttered with rage. “I… I’m… not! Maybe you’re projecting your own sick fantasies onto me.”

Vegeta snorted. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Bulma threw another pillow at him. “Asshole.” Vegeta easily deflected the pillow, but the gesture caused him to twist, and Bulma saw the wince he made as he did so. “Do your ribs still hurt?” she asked, her tone softer, concerned. Vegeta shrugged, the hint of his smile fading. Bulma knew he didn’t really like talking about his injuries, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from prying. “If you need to get checked out again, my family has-”

“It’s fine, rib injuries just take a while to heal,” Vegeta said firmly, clearly wanting to end the discussion there.

Bulma sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, well, you would know,” she said, remembering how the doctor had pointed out that this wasn’t Vegeta’s first time with a fractured rib.

Vegeta gave her a dark look, not liking her suggestive tone.

Bulma pulled up her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “Why do you push yourself so hard? Would it hurt to take some time off to rest?”

Vegeta scowled, looking down at his notes. His jaw clenched, then relaxed. “I have to get stronger,” he said, his voice oddly subdued.

“Why?”

“Strength is power.”

Bulma cocked her head. “Knowledge too.”

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder. “Yes, that does help, but I’ve never seen a brain beat a bicep.”

Bulma scrunched her nose. “That sounds so barbaric.”

“Says the girl who punched someone when in trouble,” Vegeta dryly pointed out.

Bulma blushed, unable to deny his statement. “Yes, well, it was by still using words that got me out of that situation.”

Vegeta looked at her unflinchingly. “No, it was threats. The threat of your money and influence being better than theirs. As I said, strength is power.”

Bulma scowled, thinking his words over. Vegeta seemed obsessed with being strong, in every iteration of the word. Then she perked up, getting an idea. “So, to get strong, do you go to a gym?”

Vegeta looked at her, surprised by her shift in questioning. “No. Too expensive.”

Bulma grinned. Vegeta frowned at her, suspicious as she jumped to her feet. “Come on,” she urged, holding out her hand. Vegeta narrowed his eyes further, but he took her hand and stood up. “This way,” she urged. She made sure Vegeta couldn’t pull his hand away, curling her fingers tightly around his and leading him out of her room. He followed after her, and after a few moments of hesitation, twined his fingers in with hers.

Bulma felt her heart skip a beat.

She led him through the house until they at last came upon a large doorway. Bulma reluctantly let Vegeta’s hand go and leaned up against the door, facing him with a knowing smirk. “How much do you like me?” she asked him smugly.

“What?” he snapped, not amused.

“On a scale of 1 to 10?” Bulma insisted.

Vegeta sneered at her, folding his arms. “Minus 5.”

Bulma pouted. “Rude.”

Vegeta smirked. “Take it as a compliment. I would rate most people as much lower.”

“Gee, I feel so honored,” Bulma snarked back. She stuck her nose up. “Well, I only let friends with a rating of 7 or higher into my gym.”

Vegeta’s arms fell to his side. “…What?”

“Want to change your answer?”

“Out of my way,” he said, and shoved her to the side by her waist. Bulma cried out, outraged at his manhandling as Vegeta opened the door, letting himself in.

“How dare you!” Bulma spat, stomping her foot on the ground. Vegeta ignored her as he took in the sight of the large, fully equipped gym. His eyes grew big in surprise, staring at all the equipment. It was big enough to train an entire football team at once. Two teams even.

“It’s bigger than my whole house,” he murmured in awe.

Bulma pushed her way around him, standing before him with her arms folded. “Well take a good long look because it’s the last time you’ll see it!” she said angrily.

Vegeta’s eyes snapped to her, scowling. “Like hell. You can’t show me this and then expect me not to use it.”

“And how do you propose to get in?” Bulma asked him haughtily.

Vegeta smirked. “Bet your mom will let me in.”

Bulma cringed, knowing it to be true. “I’ll put a finger print reader on the door.”

“You wouldn’t,” Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her.

“I would!” she said firmly. “In fact, I’ll do it right now,” she brushed past him.

Vegeta reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

Bulma stopped, looking over her shoulder at him.

Vegeta seemed to be struggling with something internally. He finally looked up at her, his expression pained. “What do you want in return for using this gym?” he gritted out.

Bulma smirked, victorious, until she realized she had no idea what she wanted from Vegeta, she’d only wanted to beat him at their verbal game. She looked at him, his surly face still mottled with bruises and cuts from his latest beating, his eyes dancing with uncertainty, vulnerability, at what he’d have to give up in order to have access to her gym. She had him in the palm of her hand, and she felt awful for it.

She sighed, tension leaving her body. “Nothing, Vegeta. You can use it whenever you like,” she grumbled, looking away. What a push over she was.

Vegeta didn’t answer right away. He was still holding her wrist. “Won’t your parents care?”

Bulma shrugged, still not looking at him. “No, they never use it, I only use the elliptical occasionally. The guys from the MMA team come over sometimes, but otherwise it’s just going to waste. You may as well make the most of it.”

Vegeta let go of her wrist. Bulma looked over at him and she caught something vulnerable in his gaze, but he looked away before she could put her finger on what it was. He stared at the gym for a while. When he turned back around, his expression was impassive, like he’d just bottled something up.

“I’m thirsty,” he announced, his voice gruff, his eyes not meeting hers.

“There’s drinks here… Oh, but they’re not cold,” Bulma said, remembering they never kept the refrigerators plugged in as the gym was so rarely utilized. “Well, kitchen’s this way,” she announced, and lead them out of the gym.

Once in the kitchen, Bulma pulled out two bottles of cold water and handed one to Vegeta. His hand touched hers as he accepted the drink. “Thanks,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it.

Bulma nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Vegeta’s fingers slid over hers; it was the tiniest contact, but his touch was electric. Then his hand was gone and he turned to take a drink.

Bulma hastily opened her own water, hiding a furious blush behind her bottle. How ever was she going to survive the rest of the day with Vegeta when he was having this kind of effect on her? She watched him skull his water down in seconds, his head tilted back, his bicep flexed as he held up his drink to his mouth, his throat bobbing enticingly with each gulp. He gasped as he finished his water, then looked at her with a raised brow, curious as to why she was staring. 

I’m doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722


	4. ch8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722

The rest of Bulma and Vegeta’s afternoon together wasn’t terribly productive, but what it lacked in productivity it made up for in fun. They got in some research for their school project before they soon became distracted looking up videos, and arguing about movies. To settle their debate about which was the worst action movie ever, they put on one of the contenders to watch.

“Do you mind?” Vegeta asked, glaring down at Bulma’s feet that she’d put in his lap.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Feet go on the floor,” Vegeta told slowly, her as if she were simple.

“They’re clean,” Bulma protested, wriggling her perfectly pedicured toes at him. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“For you.”

“Exactly,” she grinned at him.

Vegeta huffed, unamused. He grabbed her big toe, lifting her foot off his lap. It tickled. Bulma bucked and squealed in laughter. “D-don’t!” she protested.

Vegeta froze. Her eyes met his. Then Vegeta’s face split into a wicked grin, and Bulma forgot how to breathe. In that moment, she knew she was done for.

Vegeta pounced, grabbing both her feet and started tickling them. Bulma wailed with laughter, squirming and hitting Vegeta ineffectually, trying to pull herself free. “S-stop, stop it!” she wailed between bouts of laughter, tears of mirth running from the corners of her eyes. 

Vegeta tickled her in an especially sensitive spot. Bulma’s leg lashed out against her will, kicking Vegeta in the chest. She heard his soft ‘oof’, followed by an, “Ow, fuck.” He let her go to clutch his ribs.

“Vegeta, oh god, I’m sorry,” Bulma said, sitting up and leaning over Vegeta, worried she’d inflicted serious harm upon him. She touched his arm gently.

As soon as she did, Vegeta grabbed her wrist and pushed her down onto the couch. He straddled her, smirking down at her, his arms pinning her wrists above her head. “Just for that kick, I’ll be showing you no mercy.”

“It was an accident!” Bulma protested, but Vegeta was having none of it. His fingers dug into her sides, and Bulma squealed as he tickled her ruthlessly. She tried to buck him off, but he was immovable.

“Un-cle…!” Bulma gasped, writhing, begging for quarter.

Vegeta leaned over her, still pinning her down, smirking at her evilly. “Say ‘pretty please’.”

“Can’t… breathe…!”

“You can beg better than that.”

“V-Vegeta!” Bulma cried out, half laughing, half crying as Vegeta’s wicked fingers sent waves of ticklish pleasure throughout her body. “P-please stop, hahaha… I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he purred, his voice sounding deep, husky.

Bulma thought she was going to pass out if he tickled her much longer. She nodded breathlessly.

Vegeta leaned in and kissed her.

His mouth was warm and firm. She moaned, her eyes falling closed. Already lightheaded, Bulma found all her air being stolen by his kiss, lights sparkling before her eyes. She melted underneath him and she stopped struggling, kissing him back.

After a last, lingering kiss, Vegeta broke the contact, pulling back. Bulma made a small, plaintive sound of disapproval as he pulled away. He searched her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. Bulma could feel a blush on her cheeks, her lips parted as she panted, breathless, struggling to let her mind catch up to what had happened. He was still looking at her when all she wanted him to do was kiss her again.

“What’s that?” she asked suddenly, nodding at his top.

Vegeta looked down, confused. He let go of her hands to inspect his shirt. “What?”

“This,” she said and fisted her hand in his top, tugging him down for another searing kiss. She felt him smirk against her mouth, and she grinned back.

“Think you’re clever, huh?” he teased.

“I am a genius,” she purred back.

“Shut it, Briefs.”

“Make me.”

Vegeta kissed her and she greedily accepted it, fisting her fingers into his shirt and pulling his firm body close against hers.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

After making out for who knew how long, they finally broke apart and cuddled up on the couch, continuing their movie marathon. Vegeta spooned her from behind and Bulma made sure she was pressed as tightly against him as she could possible get. She couldn’t believe that he’d kissed her or that he was now cuddling her, one hand laying casually on her hip, the other propping up his head to watch the TV. Bulma couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been fooling herself all this time, trying to ignore how much she really liked Vegeta. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted him until he’d kissed her, and it had felt like perfection. 

It felt so impossibly safe, so good and warm to be next to him that she didn’t even remember falling asleep in his arms.

Bulma woke to the feeling of someone stroking her hair. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the room was only half lit, the dusky light of sunset barely seeping through the curtains. She had rolled over, her face pressed into Vegeta’s chest. He was watching her sleep. She blushed, feeling grateful the dim light would hide her rosy cheeks.

“I fell asleep?”

Vegeta brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I told you that movie’s second half blew.”

“What time is it?”

“Time for me to head home,” Vegeta said regretfully.

Bulma frowned, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “… Don’t?”

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “Don’t what?”

“Go,” Bulma asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “Stay with me?”

Vegeta’s hand stilled. He hesitated to answer, looking away from her. “I don’t think I should… Your parents…”

“They don’t care. They’re totally clueless, they have their own things to worry about. They probably think you’ve already gone.”

Vegeta looked unconvinced. “I have a curfew.”

“You can break it, can’t you?” Bulma begged. “You did before when you came to warn me.”

Vegeta was silent a while, thinking, his brow softly furrowed. Bulma waited with baited breath. What they had was so new and precarious, she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. 

Vegeta finally looked back up at her, drinking in the sight of her face in the waning light. He sighed. “Fine,” he relented. His hand started petting her hair again.

Bulma sighed contentedly, appeased, and buried her face against his chest once more. She enjoyed the sensation of his fingers in her hair, the musky scent of him in her nose, and the hard warmth of his body against hers.

Bulma hummed as Vegeta’s fingers started wandering, moving down her throat, skimming over her shoulder, along her arm. He moved his fingers to her waist, tracing little circles against her hip and belly. The sensation caused her skin to prickle with goosebumps, and Bulma had to bite her lip against the ticklish sensation.

“You’re pretty sensitive,” he remarked, his voice sounding amused.

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” she warned him, although her voice was more breathless than threatening.

“Why would I get any ideas?” he teased back, his fingers starting to slip beneath the waistband of her shorts.

Bulma shivered in delight. Then she grabbed his hand and put it back on her hip. “You need to be good if you want to stay.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to stay,” he reminded her. “I’ve never been great at being good.”

“Never too late to start,” she murmured.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked her, leaning in to nuzzle her hair by her ear. “Or are you secretly hoping I’ll shove you down and have my wicked way with you?”

Bulma blushed furiously, Vegeta’s words holding more truth than she cared to admit. She glared at him to hide her embarrassment. “Just try it, and I’ll scream bloody murder.”

“Blood doesn’t bother me.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

He smirked but didn’t try anything. They lay in silence together for a few more minutes, Vegeta’s fingers still gently stroking her hip. Then he sat up, stretching. “I’m hungry. Go get me some food.”

“Get it yourself, I’m comfortable,” Bulma complained, stretching out to take the warm spot Vegeta had created.

“And run into your mother?” Vegeta asked with a raised brow.

Bulma thought about that. As liberal as her parents were, it would probably still be safer that her mother and father didn’t know that Vegeta was spending the night. Bulma sighed and sat up. “Okay, okay, I’ll get some food.”

Bulma quietly fetched dinner for them. They ate together in her room on the couch, and they marathoned more martial art movies.

Bulma must have fallen asleep again, as the next thing she knew she was being picked up by strong arms and carried over to her bed. She nuzzled Vegeta’s neck sleepily. “I can walk… Your ribs…” she protested softly.

Vegeta scoffed. “Like you’re heavy enough to trouble my ribs. Besides, we’re here.” He lay her down on the bed, and Bulma curled up, opening her eyes enough to look at him. Vegeta stood, looming over her, looking back down at her as she nestled under the covers.

She could make out his silhouette in the dark. Through sleep laden eyes, she didn’t see a boy but a man, hard and powerful and entirely focused on her. Bulma felt a thrill of sensual excitement, followed by a large bout of nerves.

Vegeta toed off his socks then unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. He grabbed the collar and lifted the shirt off in one easy, practiced motion. Bulma bit her lip as Vegeta’s torso was revealed to her in the inky, moonlit room.

He was perfect; lean but muscular, every part of him well defined from his biceps, to his chest, to his belly. Bulma had always had a healthy appreciation of the male form, and Vegeta’s was the best she’d ever seen. The only imperfections were his scars and bruises from past and recent fights.

Vegeta left his jeans on and lay down on the bed, staying above the covers. He lay on his side so that he could face her. Bulma snuggled up to him and ran her fingers lightly over his chest, tracing his scars and mottled bruises. The more her fingers wandered, the more imperfections she encountered, each one breaking her heart just a little more. What kind of life had Vegeta suffered at such a young age? All she’d ever endured seemed so childish and trivial now in comparison. How spoilt did she look in his eyes? Bulma was surprised Vegeta put up with her at all.

Bulma’s hand reached Vegeta’s lower belly, tracing along the lines of his abdominals. He was magnificent. Vegeta hissed, grabbing her hand to still it.

Bulma’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” she asked, worried she’d pressed on a wound.

Vegeta shook his head. “The opposite,” he said, his voice almost a growl with how husky it was. Bulma blushed, realizing the effect she was having on him. 

She gave him a coy little smirk, pleased that she could affect him. “Guess you’re sensitive too.”

“I have my limits, Bulma,” he replied gruffly, and Bulma tried not to melt at the way he said her name. He pulled the blanket over her more tightly, keeping himself separated, a physical barrier between them as if he didn’t trust himself otherwise.

“Wait, I’m not comfortable,” Bulma complained, and started fidgeting under the blanket.

Vegeta grunted as she wriggled about. “What the hell are you doing?”

A moment later, Bulma produced her shorts and tossed them to the floor.

Vegeta watched them land, then looked back at Bulma with raised brows. “You’d better pray you still have something on under there.”

Bulma grinned at him wickedly, pulling the blanket up beneath her chin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Vegeta lifted the blanket and peeked underneath. Bulma squealed, trying to pull it back down. They wrestled for a while, Bulma laughing breathlessly until Vegeta won and got under the blanket with her. It quickly turned into another make out session, and they kissed each other hungrily. Vegeta’s hands ran over her lithe body, his jeans grinding against her panties. 

Suddenly there was a sound outside the bedroom door. Both of them froze, panicked about getting caught. 

“Meow!”

Bulma gave an exasperated sighed, relaxing. “It’s Scratch, my dad’s cat.”

Vegeta took longer to relax, clearly thinking he’d almost been caught red handed by her parents. He swore softly under his breath and rolled off her, throwing an arm over his eyes in frustration.

“Night, Bulma.”

Bulma smiled sympathetically and curled up next to him. “Night, Vegeta.”

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

When Bulma woke the next morning, Vegeta was already gone. Bulma wished she could have woken by his side, but she also knew they’d both be in a heap of trouble if he got caught. She lay in bed for a while as the sun slowly rose, breathing in his scent that lingered on her pillows, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened yesterday. Bulma blushed, remembering their kisses and the feel of his hands on her body. The memory alone made her feel hot and bothered and aching for him.

She wondered how quickly she could scheme for him to come over again. Would today be too soon? Perhaps they could meet somewhere, away from the threat of parents or cock-blocking cats?

With ideas whirring in her mind, Bulma stretched out, trying to find her phone before remembering she’d left it on the table. She got up and found her cell was already flashing with a notification. Bulma opened her messages, seeing it was from Vegeta.

Vegeta  
  
**Today** 4:48 AM  
Had to leave early to get home. Might not be able to reply to you today. See you Monday

It was hardly a love note, but it was the most words Vegeta had ever typed out to her in one go. Bulma smiled and punched out a reply.

Vegeta  
  
Okay. I’ll bring you lunch on Monday. Miss you already. 

Bulma frowned, worrying her lip, then deleted the last line, worried she sounded too clingy.

Vegeta  
  
Okay. I’ll bring you lunch on Monday. Have a good weekend! 😉😙😊 

She sent it and went about getting ready.

She showered and ate breakfast, then called Chi-Chi. “Want to go shopping?”

“Of course. In a good mood?”

Bulma beamed. “You’ve no idea.”

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

Bulma spent Sunday with Chi-Chi shopping for lingerie and new outfits and whatever else caught her fancy. She checked her phone occasionally but she didn’t worry when she didn’t receive any messages, Vegeta had warned her that he might be unable to text her, and he’d promised to see her at school on Monday. 

She sent him a message before she went to bed that night, hoping he might be able to reply. After an hour she was about the give up on receiving a message back when her phone buzzed.

Vegeta  
  
How was your day? Looking forward to tomorrow. 😊 **Today** 8:01 PM  
Have a good day? 

Bulma smiled, elated.

Vegeta  
  
Yes! 😄👍 You? Tired

Bulma’s smile faltered. It had taken an awful long time for such a short message to come through. She sent a sympathetic sad-face emoji back to Vegeta. After another interminable wait, he replied.

Vegeta  
  
☹️ **Today** 9:05 PM  
Night, Bulma

Bulma tried not to feel disappointed. Perhaps she’d woken him which is why his messages were so sparse. She sent back a good night, and waited, but there were no further replies. Figuring she’d just have to wait until the following day to get any decent dialogue with him, Bulma put her phone away and went to sleep.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

The next morning Bulma was too excited to drag her feet like she usually did on a Monday. She was ready to go before her mother had finished making her breakfast. “I’ll eat it on the way in!” Bulma called, taking a couple slices of toast with her out the door. She took the long way in to school since she had the time and because it was the most likely route for Vegeta to take to school.

She was finished her toast when she saw a familiar spiky haired figure ahead of her. Bulma could barely contain herself. She started jogging over to Vegeta and was about to call out to him when she noticed how slowly he was moving, and that he was struggling to walk in a straight line. His bag over his right shoulder, which was odd considering that was the side of his broken rib. Bulma approached him more cautiously, uncertainty quickening her heartbeat. Something was off. 

“Vegeta?” she asked softly as she reached him.

Vegeta stopped in his tracks, his shoulders hunching at the sound of her voice. He didn’t turn to look at her. Bulma felt her throat go dry as she stepped up to his side to get a look at him, fearing the worst. When she saw his face, there were not new bruises, but he looked exhausted, pale, and sweaty.

“Hey, Briefs,” he muttered, looking past her.

“Don’t ‘hey, Briefs’ me,” Bulma said, her voice tense. “Are you sick? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, just tired,” Vegeta said, his voice sounded hoarse, overused. 

Bulma reached out to take his hand in hers. The moment she touched his fingers he flinched back, sucking in a sharp, pained breath. He clutched his arm at the shoulder, wincing.

Bulma reeled back, shocked. “Vegeta… You’re hurt.”

Vegeta panted, his face strained as he shook his head. “It’s nothing… just a pulled muscle.”

Bulma felt fear rise in her gut, which only sparked her rage. “Pulled muscle my butt. Can you even raise your arm?”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Do it!”

“Fuck off, Briefs.”

“Raise your arm, goddamnit,” Bulma shrieked at him, terrified now.

Vegeta glared back at her. Then he looked down at his arm. His fingers twitched and his hand shook. He could barely raise his arm a few inches before crying out in pain, and he fell to his knees, overcome. Bulma dropped down to the ground with him, pulling out her phone and calling the ambulance. 

“Why do have to be so goddamn nosey?” he snapped at her, his head bowed in defeat, sweat dripping down his face.

“Because I care about you, you stupid, prideful jerk!” she shouted back at him, feeling tears brim in her eyes.

“Tch,” he replied weakly. He sat back against the sidewalk wall, leaning his head against it, too weak to argue with her further. By the time the ambulance arrived, Vegeta was barely conscious. Because neither he nor Bulma could provide much information about his condition, the paramedics cut off his top to examine him and place sensors on his vitals. Bulma cried out in horror when she saw his torso. Vegeta was riddled with fresh bruises, great big black splotches marring his chest and back. Intermingled with the bruises were welts, great ugly lash marks criss-crossing his flesh, raw and swollen. Bulma could also see that his arm was broken by the unnatural way it lay at his side. He was feverish and on the verge of passing out, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometime in the span of 24 hours, someone had tortured Vegeta severely; he’d had none of these injuries Saturday night. Bulma couldn’t stop the horrified tears from streaming down her face.

When they arrived at the hospital she was separated from Vegeta so that he could be stabilized. She sat on a bench in a hall and called her father in tears. She told Dr. Briefs about Vegeta’s condition and everything that she suspected.

“Papa, I’m sure he’s being abused at home,” she sobbed into her phone, sobbing inconsolably. “We have to help him. We have to do something, it gets worse every time, please, before they kill him. Please, Papa.”

“Okay, alright, calm down, sweetheart. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Please, please…”

“I said alright, Bulma. Now, why don’t you go back to school so you can be with your friends?”

“No, I’m not leaving him here alone!” she wailed hysterically.

“Alright, hush now, there’s a good girl. You take care of Vegeta, but let the doctors do their job, okay? I’ll call the school to let them know where you two are, then I’ll make some phone calls about Vegeta. But honey, I can’t promise anything. Child custody is a tricky business, you know.”

Bulma sniffed, nodding even though Dr. Briefs couldn’t see her do so. She wiped her eyes, letting her father’s voice calm her down. No one was as smart as her father. If anyone could solve this problem, it was him.

“I know you can do it, Papa. Please help him, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault because I invited him over and asked him to stay past his curfew…” Bulma dissolved into another fit of sobs, riddled with guilt. Vegeta was hurt because of her, she was positive. He must have gotten caught and punished for breaking his curfew, what else could it have been? What made it worse was that Vegeta had known it was going to happen, and yet he’d chosen to stay with her anyway. She’d asked him to stay, she’d begged him like the spoilt, entitled brat that she was.

Bulma felt like trash. 

She ended the call with her father assuring he’d do his best by Vegeta. Bulma collected herself and went back into Vegeta’s room. He was laying in bed, asleep, an IV drip in his arm feeding him much needed fluids. His left arm was in a cast, his entire torso covered in bandages. Bulma took a seat by his bed, staring at his wan face. In sleep he looked so much younger and vulnerable, his impressive scowl and arrogant confidence washed away. Bulma rested her head on the bed by his hand, watching Vegeta breathe until she too fell into a fitful, guilt-ridden slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS ARE NOT MY OWN. I used LadyVegeets' fanfic "Friends" to learn how to create iOS text messages on AO3.
> 
> Work Skin code was learned here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722

**Author's Note:**

> Fam, the product looks nice but this is not easy to implement. Put your energy towards creativity instead, and get people like me to format it for you! 😋 (No seriously, I will)


End file.
